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The Pyriad

I will refrain from giving away too much information on the title, be it a person, nationstate, or other form of a title, so as to retain some of the mystery of the story, and stories, that will be packaged under such. Content may vary from actual writing to (erp) sketches. This may end up as my NaNoWriMo, though I'm not sure if it would count since it is not in any sort of form of a normal novel, and anyways, it's probably not going to be confined to a petty month. I suppose there's not much else to say beyond that.

And to at least hold some accountability to this project, I'll post a little poem.

The Pyriad"The Spires of the Broken SpellOvershadow our sweated freckles -Silent giants ain't utter a word,Yet they grow every 'rise.

Their impartiality is oppressive."

I will refrain from giving away too much information on the title, be it a person, nationstate, or other form of a title, so as to retain some of the mystery of the story, and stories, that will be packaged under such. Content may vary from actual writing to (erp) sketches. This may end up as my NaNoWriMo, though I'm not sure if it would count since it is not in any sort of form of a normal novel, and anyways, it's probably not going to be confined to a petty month. I suppose there's not much else to say beyond that.\r\n\r\nAnd to at least hold some accountability to this project, I'll post a little poem.\r\n\r\n[b]The Pyriad[/b]\r\n"[i]The Spires of the Broken Spell\r\nOvershadow our sweated freckles -\r\nSilent giants ain't utter a word,\r\nYet they grow every 'rise.\r\n\r\nTheir impartiality is oppressive.[/i]"

Ghregory was tense. A test of his knowledge was soon to be upon him, and he had not yet analyzed the greater portion of his own teacher's writing. A stack of pages of this writing sat before him, untouched by Ghregory's attention. Instead, the large cat twiddled his whiskers at the musty ledger before him. He had never been more engrossed in any writings of this sort before, much less one that entailed the dealings of a fictitious lion-wolf knight. Ghregory firmly believed that such a warrior did, in fact, exist, but the university's administration would not admit that it was so, since an entire novel was written about his travels, and there was no relic in known existence that confirmed this being. Ghregory was profound.

Ghregory looked around the small, dank study before looking to his starboard companion, Eiyerly. Eiyerly had come in the room moments ago before throwing a stack of pages on the table next to Ghregory and settled down. The gregarious hole-swallow was enticed by the large tome before him. "Grymt Amestur! I've been trying to find this for months!" Eiyerly was ecstatic.

Ghregory, eager to procrastinate from his teacher's work, nabbed the book from before his friend and leafed through the rusty pages. Cryptic symbols and drawings were intricately embossed into the pages, yet with no sense of order - most of the metal sheets weren't even bound together, the only sense of order being a thicker sheet to act as a cover, with the signature of a supposedly highly esteemed monk, of whom Ghregory had never heard of before. "What's it about?"

"The greatest mystery. He spoke of a great beast of the Illiac Sea. The wonder of the tome is not so much the beast itself, but the way he describes it."

"Who wrote it?"

"Only the great Amestur himself." Eiyerly paused shockingly at the lack of expression on Ghregory's face. "Oh, you've never heard of Amestur? He was truly a brilliant monk! He has volumes on the goings on of nearby statehoods and travelers and ... Did you even read Professor Blight's work?"

Ghregory motioned lazily with his paw to the stack of pages lying before him. Eiyerly, much to Ghregory's annoyance, was very much appalled.

"You do realize there are at least a dozen volumes he references that you will need to have read, right? You should probably get on that."

The pressured cat was disappointed at the discretion to fulfill actual studies, and uttered a swearword under his breathe. His disappointment was not nearly going to surpass Eiyerly's, and the hole-sparrow decided to leave the cat to his studies, picking up the tome and the pages he had carried in. Ghregory, once more in solitude, was then reduced to have to commit to his studies.

-----

Sorry this isn't much at this point. I'm working out all the characters for the stories and how they play together, and hopefully will get much more writing done after the next few days.

[i]The Falling Star, First Divide[/i]\r\n\r\nGhregory was tense. A test of his knowledge was soon to be upon him, and he had not yet analyzed the greater portion of his own teacher's writing. A stack of pages of this writing sat before him, untouched by Ghregory's attention. Instead, the large cat twiddled his whiskers at the musty ledger before him. He had never been more engrossed in any writings of this sort before, much less one that entailed the dealings of a fictitious lion-wolf knight. Ghregory firmly believed that such a warrior did, in fact, exist, but the university's administration would not admit that it was so, since an entire novel was written about his travels, and there was no relic in known existence that confirmed this being. Ghregory was profound.\r\n\r\nGhregory looked around the small, dank study before looking to his starboard companion, Eiyerly. Eiyerly had come in the room moments ago before throwing a stack of pages on the table next to Ghregory and settled down. The gregarious hole-swallow was enticed by the large tome before him. "[i]Grymt Amestur[/i]! I've been trying to find this for months!" Eiyerly was ecstatic. \r\n\r\nGhregory, eager to procrastinate from his teacher's work, nabbed the book from before his friend and leafed through the rusty pages. Cryptic symbols and drawings were intricately embossed into the pages, yet with no sense of order - most of the metal sheets weren't even bound together, the only sense of order being a thicker sheet to act as a cover, with the signature of a supposedly highly esteemed monk, of whom Ghregory had never heard of before. "What's it about?"\r\n\r\n"The greatest mystery. He spoke of a great beast of the Illiac Sea. The wonder of the tome is not so much the beast itself, but the way he describes it."\r\n\r\n"Who wrote it?"\r\n\r\n"Only the great Amestur himself." Eiyerly paused shockingly at the lack of expression on Ghregory's face. "Oh, you've never heard of Amestur? He was truly a brilliant monk! He has volumes on the goings on of nearby statehoods and travelers and ... Did you even read Professor Blight's work?" \r\n\r\nGhregory motioned lazily with his paw to the stack of pages lying before him. Eiyerly, much to Ghregory's annoyance, was very much appalled.\r\n\r\n"You do realize there are at least a dozen volumes he references that you will need to have read, right? You should probably get on that."\r\n\r\nThe pressured cat was disappointed at the discretion to fulfill actual studies, and uttered a swearword under his breathe. His disappointment was not nearly going to surpass Eiyerly's, and the hole-sparrow decided to leave the cat to his studies, picking up the tome and the pages he had carried in. Ghregory, once more in solitude, was then reduced to have to commit to his studies.\r\n\r\n-----\r\n\r\nSorry this isn't much at this point. I'm working out all the characters for the stories and how they play together, and hopefully will get much more writing done after the next few days.

I enjoy the mannerisms and overall feel of it so far, but I don't have much to say about the content in the given context. Well, I do has one thing to say: it's different. It isn't necessarily different in a bad way. It's more so in, shall we say, a "developmental stage." The cat thing struck me the most, but that's probably because of my mindset. My mindset is in a pretty literal state most of the time so I'm often conflicting with oddness. As for the protagonist, he seems like he has a lot of potential to develop into a deep character, but only time will tell.

Also, you say "before" a lot. :P

Initial thoughts: wat\r\n\r\nI enjoy the mannerisms and overall feel of it so far, but I don't have much to say about the content in the given context. Well, I do has one thing to say: it's different. It isn't necessarily different in a bad way. It's more so in, shall we say, a "developmental stage." The cat thing struck me the most, but that's probably because of my mindset. My mindset is in a pretty literal state most of the time so I'm often conflicting with oddness. As for the protagonist, he seems like he has a lot of potential to develop into a deep character, but only time will tell. \r\n\r\nAlso, you say "before" a lot. :P

The style of your writing is pretty engaging. I could see this story going somewhere, even though I don't know the main plot yet, or many characters, I have a feeling this could turn into an interesting saga.So keep up the good work!

The style of your writing is pretty engaging. I could see this story going somewhere, even though I don't know the main plot yet, or many characters, I have a feeling this could turn into an interesting saga.\r\nSo keep up the good work!

"KhyREEEEEEEEEE!" The call echoed off of the walls with great intensity as a squad of soldiers rounded the corner. Upon seeing the caller, the squad chased after the individual down the long hallway of the mine. They took a quick series of turns until the man got away from them, and there was not a sound heard anymore - just a long hallway in front of them, with a lot of branching rooms. The soldiers carefully made their way, making sure to check inside each room before hearing a loud screech from behind and 'BOOM!' as the door into the hallway was closed shut and blocked. The soldiers ran to the door, dropped their torches, and tried their best to reopen the passway. They wouldn't be a bother to him anymore.

The man ran back through the mine to a man who was digging up a chest. "How long?"

"Just a few more moments..." The shovel made a thud as it hit the chest in the ground. He dug out the dirt on top of the chest enough to find the hands and announced, "There! Help me lift it out, Jethro!"

The two men jumped down into the hole they had dug and heaved the chest up onto the floor of the mine. Echoing off of the walls as the clanking of metal and the clambering of shields as more soldiers found their way into the tunnel. "Quick, this way!"

"I sure hope you know your way out of here!" The two climbed out of the hole, picked up the chest, and Jethro dragged the chest and Khyree along as he found his way through the mines. They rounded a few turns before they beheld a door blocked by Jethro only a few minutes before, with the banging of the squad inside. "Way to go, genius!"

"Hold on, there's another way!"

"Hopefully not the main entrance?"

Jethro gritted his teeth and scurried on down the tunnels of the mine. After another minute or two, they rounded a corner to reveal a hallway with a number of tight archways with a shaft at the end with a tunnel of light. It was a well. "Come on!"

They squeezed the chest and themselves through the archways before halting at the well. To their luck, it was not only dry, but an exit one of the King's miners used months ago. There were handholds up the side.

"Hold on, I'll go up and drop down the rope. You can tie the chest to that and climb up and help me pull the chest up." Jethro disappeared up the shaft and a short time later, a rope dropped down. Khyree was tying the rope around the chest when a light appeared out of the corner of his eye. It was a soldier. Khyree scurried up the well and helped pull up the chest, and Jethro was just about to untie the chest when Khyree said, "Wait!" The echoing of feet sounded up the well, and Khyree pushed the chest and let it drop down into the well. Just as soon as the soldier's head popped out, the chest greeted it, and the soldier was knocked unconscious. However, the chest was slipping, and shouts came from down in the mine. As they pulled the chest back up, the chest got closer and closer to falling, and as soon as it was in reach, Jethro reached out and stopped it from slipping. Jethro grabbed the other side and they once again heaved it onto the ground and untied it. The ground quaked slightly under their feet next to the well. The sound of the soldiers in the mine was closer than ever.

A sudden realization came over Khyree, and they dropped the chest again. A rumbling sound came, and with the soldiers underneath and the force of the chest, the well slowly caved in as the pair ran off from the exit of the mine caving in. They pair stopped to take a breathe. What they just witnessed was an ambush during battle. It would not be long before the found the squad, and the squad found the other exit from the mine. They needed to get back to camp.

-----

Thanks, guys!

Also, you say "before" a lot. :P

I tend to have that problem a lot. The entire time I was writing this, I was thinking, "I NEED to use something other than the phrase 'stack of pages'." Maybe someday. I'll just say, the passage was a little more difficult to keep track of during writing because it's a bit different from my normal style.

[i]The Scorpion, Part I[/i]\r\n\r\n"KhyREEEEEEEEEE!" The call echoed off of the walls with great intensity as a squad of soldiers rounded the corner. Upon seeing the caller, the squad chased after the individual down the long hallway of the mine. They took a quick series of turns until the man got away from them, and there was not a sound heard anymore - just a long hallway in front of them, with a lot of branching rooms. The soldiers carefully made their way, making sure to check inside each room before hearing a loud screech from behind and 'BOOM!' as the door into the hallway was closed shut and blocked. The soldiers ran to the door, dropped their torches, and tried their best to reopen the passway. They wouldn't be a bother to him anymore.\r\n\r\nThe man ran back through the mine to a man who was digging up a chest. "How long?"\r\n\r\n"Just a few more moments..." The shovel made a thud as it hit the chest in the ground. He dug out the dirt on top of the chest enough to find the hands and announced, "There! Help me lift it out, Jethro!"\r\n\r\nThe two men jumped down into the hole they had dug and heaved the chest up onto the floor of the mine. Echoing off of the walls as the clanking of metal and the clambering of shields as more soldiers found their way into the tunnel. "Quick, this way!"\r\n\r\n"I sure hope you know your way out of here!" The two climbed out of the hole, picked up the chest, and Jethro dragged the chest and Khyree along as he found his way through the mines. They rounded a few turns before they beheld a door blocked by Jethro only a few minutes before, with the banging of the squad inside. "Way to go, genius!"\r\n\r\n"Hold on, there's another way!"\r\n\r\n"Hopefully not the main entrance?"\r\n\r\nJethro gritted his teeth and scurried on down the tunnels of the mine. After another minute or two, they rounded a corner to reveal a hallway with a number of tight archways with a shaft at the end with a tunnel of light. It was a well. "Come on!"\r\n\r\nThey squeezed the chest and themselves through the archways before halting at the well. To their luck, it was not only dry, but an exit one of the King's miners used months ago. There were handholds up the side.\r\n\r\n"Hold on, I'll go up and drop down the rope. You can tie the chest to that and climb up and help me pull the chest up." Jethro disappeared up the shaft and a short time later, a rope dropped down. Khyree was tying the rope around the chest when a light appeared out of the corner of his eye. It was a soldier. Khyree scurried up the well and helped pull up the chest, and Jethro was just about to untie the chest when Khyree said, "Wait!" The echoing of feet sounded up the well, and Khyree pushed the chest and let it drop down into the well. Just as soon as the soldier's head popped out, the chest greeted it, and the soldier was knocked unconscious. However, the chest was slipping, and shouts came from down in the mine. As they pulled the chest back up, the chest got closer and closer to falling, and as soon as it was in reach, Jethro reached out and stopped it from slipping. Jethro grabbed the other side and they once again heaved it onto the ground and untied it. The ground quaked slightly under their feet next to the well. The sound of the soldiers in the mine was closer than ever. \r\n\r\nA sudden realization came over Khyree, and they dropped the chest again. A rumbling sound came, and with the soldiers underneath and the force of the chest, the well slowly caved in as the pair ran off from the exit of the mine caving in. They pair stopped to take a breathe. What they just witnessed was an ambush during battle. It would not be long before the found the squad, and the squad found the other exit from the mine. They needed to get back to camp.\r\n\r\n-----\r\n\r\nThanks, guys! :)\r\n\r\n[quote]Also, you say "before" a lot. :P[/quote]\r\nI tend to have that problem a lot. The entire time I was writing this, I was thinking, "I NEED to use something other than the phrase 'stack of pages'." Maybe someday. I'll just say, the passage was a little more difficult to keep track of during writing because it's a bit different from my normal style.

My mother once told me that the ground may shift and break, but the sky will always be the same. For many years I thought her to be wrong, for the stars shift and burn out too. However, as the decades pass I realize what she really meant. I have seen battles won and lost, history made and history lost, yet the sky never seems to change. I can depend on it always being above the land, the Sun rising every morn and setting every evening, the stars making their grand display by night. The land depends on it, whether it knows it or not.

I know death. I've observed its work, and I believe it can never win. It wins battles, but it never wins wars. In some respects, it's a lot like the sky - the darkness tries to overcome, yet the day always comes around. Legacy lives on.

So it is not without ideal that I claim that I am living. Some say that I do not, but that does not excuse the fact that I am who I am.

I was born by my mother's side by the North Hills, of the shore of the Illiac Sea. I spent my younger years growing, learning, observing, experiencing. While I am admittedly still a bit young for my kind, I know much. My mother was vanquished recently. I have visitors, occasionally; they could care less about me. Most just pass through or want something of some demand that only I have.

Yet I grow fearsome. Is it for my mother? Perhaps; I have no idea what defeated her, and have only heard stories. I would not dare to venture to discover; no, I could not. Is it for my own eventual demise? Death certainly overcomes all beings eventually, beit of old age or of experience; I know that life will live on, somewhere, somehow, and that daylight will always find its way to shine. That is comforting to me. Indeed; fear is easy. An excuse not to fear, is powerful.

However, that is not all, for as life will always continue, it strives on; this concerns me, as a legacy is not entirely easy to simply pass on. It must be earned, given, exemplified in one's life. Some of my kind borrow that into fear; some borrow into grandeur. I have contemplated, and suppose that the goodness of one is upbringing for another; yet, that leaves no legacy to pass on. As I have said, fear is easy. It is memorable. Even grandeur can't live forever. I would hate to be feared. As I ever ponder on about it, I prepare for the next generation and depend on the fruit of my kindness to produce something wonderful. Even so, is not the inspiration of one generation of itself, rather, its traits? It is not unnatural for one to be concerning for her descendants. Certainly my mother was.In that case, I will honor my mother's decision and my own, unless there is some great event to occur that changes the face of the land. . .

[i]I Ate a Fern Once, First Divide[/i]\r\n\r\nMy mother once told me that the ground may shift and break, but the sky will always be the same. For many years I thought her to be wrong, for the stars shift and burn out too. However, as the decades pass I realize what she really meant. I have seen battles won and lost, history made and history lost, yet the sky never seems to change. I can depend on it always being above the land, the Sun rising every morn and setting every evening, the stars making their grand display by night. The land depends on it, whether it knows it or not.\r\n\r\nI know death. I've observed its work, and I believe it can never win. It wins battles, but it never wins wars. In some respects, it's a lot like the sky - the darkness tries to overcome, yet the day always comes around. Legacy lives on.\r\n\r\nSo it is not without ideal that I claim that I am living. Some say that I do not, but that does not excuse the fact that I am who I am.\r\n\r\nI was born by my mother's side by the North Hills, of the shore of the Illiac Sea. I spent my younger years growing, learning, observing, experiencing. While I am admittedly still a bit young for my kind, I know much. My mother was vanquished recently. I have visitors, occasionally; they could care less about me. Most just pass through or want something of some demand that only I have.\r\n\r\nYet I grow fearsome. Is it for my mother? Perhaps; I have no idea what defeated her, and have only heard stories. I would not dare to venture to discover; no, I could not. Is it for my own eventual demise? Death certainly overcomes all beings eventually, beit of old age or of experience; I know that life will live on, somewhere, somehow, and that daylight will always find its way to shine. That is comforting to me. Indeed; fear is easy. An excuse not to fear, is powerful.\r\n\r\nHowever, that is not all, for as life will always continue, it strives on; this concerns me, as a legacy is not entirely easy to simply pass on. It must be earned, given, exemplified in one's life. Some of my kind borrow that into fear; some borrow into grandeur. I have contemplated, and suppose that the goodness of one is upbringing for another; yet, that leaves no legacy to pass on. As I have said, fear is easy. It is memorable. Even grandeur can't live forever. I would hate to be feared. As I ever ponder on about it, I prepare for the next generation and depend on the fruit of my kindness to produce something wonderful. Even so, is not the inspiration of one generation of itself, rather, its traits? It is not unnatural for one to be concerning for her descendants. Certainly my mother was.\r\nIn that case, I will honor my mother's decision and my own, unless there is some great event to occur that changes the face of the land. . .

Ghregory was determined not to be chosen as one of that day's speakers in class, as the last presentation for the period. He really had no choice in the matter - karma, to him, would be to wait until the following day to present. Even with the extended time, the cat would not be affected in the slightest, as he had, surprising even to himself, finished perusing his teacher's pages and read a few of the references, and even wrote a passage based on the work. Still, he was intimidated by Eiyerly's invidia of Ghregory's writing, especially the approval granted to it by none other than the teacher himself. Unbeknown to Eiyerly, he probably wouldn't even still be at the school if not for spoken poetry every presentation. He was lazy, and mere facts could be better attributed to necessary research than his own petty knowledge. After all, that is the purpose of an educational university - he alluded to better spend his time on myths and legends than to practice on already known facts. Deductive reasoning seemed more useful to him than inductive.

Still, though, he had to pass on the time before he could access the resources he needed. A strong thesis to him was the beginning of a traveler's life, one he had looked forward to since he had first attended the university. Professor Gy, his adviser, was very forwarding on the coming thesis Ghregory would have to prepare. "Well, you'll need a monk or other writer to focus on - the more knowledgeable, the easier for you. And don't forget to include some of that poetry of yours - it really is brilliant. Don't forget to do the research, though, or you will regret it!" added Gy with a reproachful smile. Gy knew all of his weaknesses and faults - the array of faculty assessments on Ghregory's behavior and aptitude attributed to that. This thesis was the last obstacle between Ghregory and the Winter Road. He was perturbed at the thought.

Lazy applause interrupted Ghregory's reverie as Eiyerly finished his speech. It seemed that he would not deliver his presentation after all. Three of Ghregory's closest classmates, Isaiah, Eiyerly, and Queipeg, all turned in toward Ghregory and started talking. "Did you like the part about the - " Eiyerly began before he was interrupted by Ghregory picking up his runes and leaving the designated classroom. Eiyerly was less perturbed than perplexed at the regard of his friend. "Hey, I'll catch up with you two later, okay?"

Eiyerly found him once again in his study room, where the day before he found that precious tome. I'll return that tomorrow, after I finish it, Eiyerly thought to himself. Reminding himself of Ghregory's attitude earlier, he decided to speak out. "Hey, Ghreg, are you alright?"

Ghregory didn't respond. He was busy engaging himself in the ledger he had the previous day, if only it weren't for the fact that his eyes refused to understand the embossed patterns on the page. Then again, he didn't attempt to make any changes to this situation. To stave the tensity, he whisked his tail back and forth once. And again.

"Look, if there's something you want to talk about -"

"No. It's just ... we're so close." He continued to stare intently at the ledger. No words formed in his mind.

Eiyerly looked on top of the stack of pages on Ghregory's desk. It was the designated script for his thesis. Eiyerly was tempted to switch into his conversational mode, but forbid himself, recognizing Ghregory's attitude. He perched on a rail opposite of Ghregory in the cramped study. "Are you getting ready to leave after you're done here?"

Ghregory sighed. "Eventually. I have yet to begin writing my thesis."

"Do you know what you're writing about?"

"Something ... not fictional. Very real, or was, anyways."

Eiyerly did not quite comprehend the cat's apprehension for all things known, but dismissed the thought and idealized helping his friend. "Do you want me to help? I could give a suggestion."

Ghregory looked over the pages to his friend, expecting a sly look following the remark, but neither the face nor the tone gave away any sarcasm, and he realized Eiyerly was being honest. "Fine, whatever."

Eiyerly nodded, and without another word, hopped off his perch and left the room.

[i]The Falling Star, Second Divide[/i]\r\n\r\nGhregory was determined not to be chosen as one of that day's speakers in class, as the last presentation for the period. He really had no choice in the matter - karma, to him, would be to wait until the following day to present. Even with the extended time, the cat would not be affected in the slightest, as he had, surprising even to himself, finished perusing his teacher's pages and read a few of the references, and even wrote a passage based on the work. Still, he was intimidated by Eiyerly's invidia of Ghregory's writing, especially the approval granted to it by none other than the teacher himself. Unbeknown to Eiyerly, he probably wouldn't even still be at the school if not for spoken poetry every presentation. He was lazy, and mere facts could be better attributed to necessary research than his own petty knowledge. After all, that is the purpose of an educational university - he alluded to better spend his time on myths and legends than to practice on already known facts. Deductive reasoning seemed more useful to him than inductive.\r\n\r\nStill, though, he had to pass on the time before he could access the resources he needed. A strong thesis to him was the beginning of a traveler's life, one he had looked forward to since he had first attended the university. Professor Gy, his adviser, was very forwarding on the coming thesis Ghregory would have to prepare. "Well, you'll need a monk or other writer to focus on - the more knowledgeable, the easier for you. And don't forget to include some of that poetry of yours - it really is brilliant. Don't forget to do the research, though, or you will regret it!" added Gy with a reproachful smile. Gy knew all of his weaknesses and faults - the array of faculty assessments on Ghregory's behavior and aptitude attributed to that. This thesis was the last obstacle between Ghregory and the Winter Road. He was perturbed at the thought.\r\n\r\nLazy applause interrupted Ghregory's reverie as Eiyerly finished his speech. It seemed that he would not deliver his presentation after all. Three of Ghregory's closest classmates, Isaiah, Eiyerly, and Queipeg, all turned in toward Ghregory and started talking. "Did you like the part about the - " Eiyerly began before he was interrupted by Ghregory picking up his runes and leaving the designated classroom. Eiyerly was less perturbed than perplexed at the regard of his friend. "Hey, I'll catch up with you two later, okay?"\r\n\r\nEiyerly found him once again in his study room, where the day before he found that precious tome. I'll return that tomorrow, after I finish it, Eiyerly thought to himself. Reminding himself of Ghregory's attitude earlier, he decided to speak out. "Hey, Ghreg, are you alright?"\r\n\r\nGhregory didn't respond. He was busy engaging himself in the ledger he had the previous day, if only it weren't for the fact that his eyes refused to understand the embossed patterns on the page. Then again, he didn't attempt to make any changes to this situation. To stave the tensity, he whisked his tail back and forth once. And again.\r\n\r\n"Look, if there's something you want to talk about -"\r\n\r\n"No. It's just ... we're so close." He continued to stare intently at the ledger. No words formed in his mind.\r\n\r\nEiyerly looked on top of the stack of pages on Ghregory's desk. It was the designated script for his thesis. Eiyerly was tempted to switch into his conversational mode, but forbid himself, recognizing Ghregory's attitude. He perched on a rail opposite of Ghregory in the cramped study. "Are you getting ready to leave after you're done here?"\r\n\r\nGhregory sighed. "Eventually. I have yet to begin writing my thesis."\r\n\r\n"Do you know what you're writing about?"\r\n\r\n"Something ... not fictional. Very real, or was, anyways."\r\n\r\nEiyerly did not quite comprehend the cat's apprehension for all things known, but dismissed the thought and idealized helping his friend. "Do you want me to help? I could give a suggestion."\r\n\r\nGhregory looked over the pages to his friend, expecting a sly look following the remark, but neither the face nor the tone gave away any sarcasm, and he realized Eiyerly was being honest. "Fine, whatever."\r\n\r\nEiyerly nodded, and without another word, hopped off his perch and left the room.

The fire was warming. The chill night air was exasperating, to say the least, and the three men huddled around it were very much appreciative of the exchange. They gave it fuel, it kept them warm and staved the darkness, for a short distance. A nocturnal beast, hungry for a small meal, feared the fire out of wonder and dared not leave the cold, dark underlay of the land to test the three individuals. It cowered back and shivered in the cold. At least the night was familiar.

One of three men around the fire, a particularly stocky, bald man, squinted at the parchment he was reading. He grunted in question. A much less set pale-skinned man, clean-shaven (or was he?) with long, shaggy hair, leaned over and attempted to answer any question the larger man might have had. "It's ... a flightless bird. Something I made up." His grunt having been resolved, the man continued his reading with a following finger to mark his place.

The man across from the pair, his hair slightly grayed from age, watched silently while munching on the remains of his portion of a stew - two more servings lay in the bottom of the pot over the fire, untouched by their intended recipients. He contemplated eating it for them, but he asserted that they probably needed the stew more than he did, especially with all the trekking they had done. If only they recognized that and masticated their part. He decided to convince them to eat their food before he did. "You should eat."

He took out two pouches from midst the sacks and started filling them from the cast iron pot above the fire with a ladle. The other two reluctantly put down their bound papers and books and pens and accepted the food. The smaller one took to appreciating the night sky. The moon was full that night, and cast shadows on the land below with a faint glow. It was just beginning to set behind the nearby spire. There were just a flew clouds spattered before the stars, and they radiated seemingly from a painter's palette.

And there they were: the stars, as they always had been. Innumerable, ever different, yet always there. A few patterns persisted - he had always been fascinated with constellations, and heard of some of their mythology, but he had never studied them before. It would have helped to have a book on it. Among all of the books he had, none very much mentioned astronomy. He noted to himself to pick up a book if he ever found one.

The older man, who seemed to identify himself as the leader of the group, broke the soft silence. "We should be getting sleep. We'll try to make gain tomorrow - it's getting closer and closer every day."

With that, they put down their pastimes, unpacked their pads, and slept until the sun rose the next day.

-----

Sorry if the lack of drama and action is withdrawing. This should be my last intro to a story for a little while. :3

The fire was warming. The chill night air was exasperating, to say the least, and the three men huddled around it were very much appreciative of the exchange. They gave it fuel, it kept them warm and staved the darkness, for a short distance. A nocturnal beast, hungry for a small meal, feared the fire out of wonder and dared not leave the cold, dark underlay of the land to test the three individuals. It cowered back and shivered in the cold. At least the night was familiar.\r\n\r\nOne of three men around the fire, a particularly stocky, bald man, squinted at the parchment he was reading. He grunted in question. A much less set pale-skinned man, clean-shaven (or was he?) with long, shaggy hair, leaned over and attempted to answer any question the larger man might have had. "It's ... a flightless bird. Something I made up." His grunt having been resolved, the man continued his reading with a following finger to mark his place.\r\n\r\nThe man across from the pair, his hair slightly grayed from age, watched silently while munching on the remains of his portion of a stew - two more servings lay in the bottom of the pot over the fire, untouched by their intended recipients. He contemplated eating it for them, but he asserted that they probably needed the stew more than he did, especially with all the trekking they had done. If only they recognized that and masticated their part. He decided to convince them to eat their food before he did. "You should eat." \r\n\r\nHe took out two pouches from midst the sacks and started filling them from the cast iron pot above the fire with a ladle. The other two reluctantly put down their bound papers and books and pens and accepted the food. \r\nThe smaller one took to appreciating the night sky. The moon was full that night, and cast shadows on the land below with a faint glow. It was just beginning to set behind the nearby spire. There were just a flew clouds spattered before the stars, and they radiated seemingly from a painter's palette. \r\n\r\nAnd there they were: the stars, as they always had been. Innumerable, ever different, yet always there. A few patterns persisted - he had always been fascinated with constellations, and heard of some of their mythology, but he had never studied them before. It would have helped to have a book on it. Among all of the books he had, none very much mentioned astronomy. He noted to himself to pick up a book if he ever found one.\r\n\r\nThe older man, who seemed to identify himself as the leader of the group, broke the soft silence. "We should be getting sleep. We'll try to make gain tomorrow - it's getting closer and closer every day."\r\n\r\nWith that, they put down their pastimes, unpacked their pads, and slept until the sun rose the next day.\r\n\r\n-----\r\n\r\nSorry if the lack of drama and action is withdrawing. This should be my last intro to a story for a little while. :3

I absolutely love The Falling Star so far. It's really establishing a unique setting gradually, and I want to read more to find out about the world.

The casual style, not in writing but in presentation, is also very drawing. It's a story one feels very comfortable reading.

I absolutely love The Falling Star so far. It's really establishing a unique setting gradually, and I want to read more to find out about the world. \r\n\r\nThe casual style, not in writing but in presentation, is also very drawing. It's a story one feels very comfortable reading.

I absolutely love The Falling Star so far. It's really establishing a unique setting gradually, and I want to read more to find out about the world.

The casual style, not in writing but in presentation, is also very drawing. It's a story one feels very comfortable reading.

Thanks Nurv :3

I said that content would surpass writing. It certainly did. More on that in the coming, eh, whenever I finish it. As of right now, I'm on break for a month and a week, so I have plenty of time to do nothing.

The Falling Star, Third Divide

"This is far from dead."

[quote]\r\nI absolutely love The Falling Star so far. It's really establishing a unique setting gradually, and I want to read more to find out about the world.\r\n\r\nThe casual style, not in writing but in presentation, is also very drawing. It's a story one feels very comfortable reading.\r\n[/quote]\r\nThanks Nurv :3\r\n\r\nI said that content would surpass writing. It certainly did. More on that in the coming, eh, whenever I finish it. As of right now, I'm on break for a month and a week, so I have plenty of time to do nothing.\r\n\r\n[i]The Falling Star, Third Divide[/i]\r\n\r\n"This is far from dead."

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